This Fire Grows High
by LikeSnowLikeGold
Summary: Sensible and cautious Bella shocks everyone including herself by dropping out of college, leaving her old life behind, and moving to England to live with her (not so sensible and cautious) cousin Alice. There she meets her cousin's cool gang of friends and jumps head first into their lifestyle, complete with sex, parties, adventures, secrets, and shenanigans.
1. Chapter One: You Are a Tourist

_"If you feel just like a tourist in the city you were born_

_Then it's time to go_

_And define your destination_

_There's so many different places to call home"_

_- You Are a Tourist by Death Cab for Cutie_

* * *

It's 92 degrees outside and I feel like a lizard. I sit cross-legged on a lounger in the shade with my guitar in my lap face up, and I absently thumb the strings in a tuneless melody while I watch my mother's face. She's poised upright on a plastic garden chair with her arms resting on the sides and her head tilted back to face the Californian sun. It's rare for my Mom to be sitting so calmly in one place for more than a few minutes, and I take this opportunity to just watch her. She looks beautiful and peaceful, with her blue eyes closed and a smile on her face for the sky. She looks happy.

My legs squelch and stick to the plastic cover of the lounger cushion as I change their position from beneath the guitar. Something about the idea of spreading out under the sun and singing about the summer had appealed to me, but now that I am here I feel strangely self-conscious. I can hear the neighbours chatting from over the other side of the fence, and I know my Mom is expecting some music because she peeks out at me through one of her eyelids every time the mindless pattern I'm playing starts to sound like the beginning of a song. She knows me well enough not to say anything though.

She's heard me singing a million times – I mean for god's sake, it was her who taught me how to play the guitar all of those years ago, my clumsy fingers bending awkwardly for the chords while she sat behind me placing them in the correct position, her wild chestnut curls brushing my cheek.

There is no reasonable explanation for my lingering shyness, and I realise that this is the one defining difference between my Mom and me, the one thing that stops me from being as uninhibited as she is right now; despite all of her highs and lows, she is comfortable with herself. I look at her, so content on that chair, no barriers up at all, and I don't think I have ever been that relaxed in my entire life. Even when I'm alone in my room, I am aware of how I'm sitting, and how weird my face must look when I'm concentrating on learning a new strumming pattern, and how childish my voice sounds when I sing.

"I think my boobs are burning." Mom presses her fingertips against the skin of her ample chest above her bikini top, and watches as the marks turn from tan to white, and back to tan again.

"I told you to put on some sunscreen," I say gently, smiling at her from the shade of the umbrella. I feel like I should be talking quietly, like how your voice sounds too loud sometimes after nobody has spoken for a while. "Do you want me to get some for you?"

If I had come out here without practically bathing myself in the SPF 50 earlier, my skin would be blistering and peeling off in sheets right now. I have always envied my Mom's bronzed skin, who says I take after my father in that respect. I think I must take after my father in a lot of respects, because I look nothing like my Mom.

She waves her hand flippantly in the air and leans her head back again, her eyes crinkling closed. "I'll be fine, darling. I'm going inside soon anyway."

I sit idly for a few more minutes, my mind wandering and my head aching dully from the relentless heat beating down on us. Phil comes outside with a pitcher of something colourful and cold for Mom, and she asks me if I would like a glass but I refuse it. Phil knows that she's always been pretty relaxed about letting me drink. The legal drinking age in England is 18 so as far as she's concerned I can have what I like now at 19. Still, he will never outright offer it to me, although he won't say a word about his thoughts on my British mother's liberal parenting style, whatever they may be. He has never tried to interfere or be anything other than a friend to me for these past four years, which I appreciate.

Mom leans up and kisses him on the lips as thanks while she takes the plastic glass he has poured for her. He follows her lips as she pulls away, keeping the kiss going for a few seconds longer as she laughs against his mouth. They are so in love. I feel wistful as I watch them, knowing this is a private moment but unable to look away.

Being back at home feels different than it used to before I dropped out of college. I feel like a cat whose owners have packed up and moved house, and now I can't find any of the places I was comfy in before because the light doesn't slant through the windows in the same direction. But nothing has changed here, so it must be me that has changed.

"Bella, have you heard from your cousin lately?" Mom cups her hand over her eyes to shield them from the sun so she can look at me. I have been waiting for this question.

"She sent me a message on Facebook yesterday but I haven't answered her back yet. Why?" I ask casually, my fingers weaving a tiny braid in my brown waves to give me something to focus on. I'm not a great liar.

"Cathy has been worried about her, and you know my sister doesn't worry about things unless there's really something to worry about. She said on the phone last night that Alice has been acting distant for a long time."

Oh. I abandon the little braid, dangling half finished. That wasn't what I was expecting at all.

"I know you two keep in touch," Mom continues. "Have you noticed anything different with her?"

"Not really..." I trail off, trying to remember what she'd talked about in the last few messages she'd sent me. New job, new boys, old friends, sex, drugs, parties, shenanigans: nothing out of the ordinary there. But then again, I'm only hearing about what she chooses to tell me. If there was something going on with her that she was trying to hide, I wouldn't be able to find out what it was through those messages. "You know how Alice is, she's always been a bit of a dreamer. I'm sure it's nothing."

"That's exactly what I told your aunt," says Mom, sounding appeased. "I told her our Ali has always been a real individual. Very quirky and different - in a lovely way, of course. I'll never forget the time I asked her what she wanted to be when she grew up. You girls can't have been more than 4 years old, and I had you both in the bath together, oh, you had made beards for each other out of bubbles and you looked so adorable..." I have heard this story many times, but I still can't help the smile that forms as I picture us. "Now, you still wanted to be a ballerina at this point, and I must be honest Bella, you weren't nearly as graceful back then as you are now."

"I'm graceful now?" I scoff in disbelief. "You definitely didn't see me trying to sit on this sun lounger earlier without opening it all the way. I think I broke my butt."

"You're very graceful! The way you dance around the house, you're nothing like your old Mum. I'm a walking tornado." I laugh and silently agree with her tornado comparison, because that is exactly what she's like, but not in the way she means it. "Anyway, so you were going to be a ballerina, and I asked Alice, 'What do you want to be when you grow up, sweetheart?' And she said, 'I want to be a star, Auntie Renee.' And I said, 'Like a film star?' And she told me, 'No Auntie Renee, I want to be a real star! Like the twinkly stars in the sky.' A star! Can you believe that?" Mom giggles delightedly at the memory. "Oh, she used to make me laugh, that girl."

I'm surprised at how much that story makes me miss Alice, and not just physically, although it has been years since I last saw her in person. I miss my best friend, I miss our closeness. We have been keeping in sporadic touch over the years, but at some point during that time we have lost our connection, our bond that made friends and not just cousins, and I don't know when it happened. When did I stop knowing what was going on with her? If something was upsetting Alice when we were 10, I would have sensed it in an instant.

I have a message to write.

* * *

_Hey Ali,_

_Sorry for not answering yesterday, I've been thinking on that mammoth reply you sent me._

_That store sounds completely perfect for you. I always pictured you working somewhere kind of interesting like that. Are you actually going to get paid to stare at people hands and tell them their futures one day? Because that would be so awesome. Please tell me you're calling yourself Mystic Alice now or something. (I don't care if you're not, because I'm going to anyway.)_

_And you don't even have to tell me about your wild adventures because I'm pretty sure I've seen it all on Facebook, you bad girl! It's a good job you explained some of those photos to me because I didn't have the slightest clue what was going on there. Seriously though, I'm glad you've been having fun, and it sounds like you have some really great friends. So what else is going on with you, any news? Have you been doing okay?_

_And I know you're right about the college thing. It's so silly because nobody is disappointed or angry with me, and I know I did the right thing. I wasn't happy and it was the wrong place for me, and it was a waste of time and money for me to be there if it wasn't what I wanted. But I still feel guilty! There's this weird pressure to go to college here if you want to make anything of your life, it's not like England with Uni._

_But yeah, Mom's been fine with it. You know how she is, she cares much more about my happiness than my education thank god. She thinks this is all part of me 'finding myself', which I guess is true. And she's been doing really good lately thanks. Everything has been well under control with the medication for a long time now. We all know what signs to look out for if things start to go downhill again anyway, and she's more aware of herself than anyone._

_About your invitation: I'm actually thinking about it. I bet you didn't expect me to say that, and I kind of expected myself to just say no. But I'm really thinking about it. Living at home again has been difficult now that I know what it's like to live somewhere else. Don't get me wrong, I love being back here, and I love my Mom and I even love Phil. But I know it's time for me to move on, I just don't know where I want to move on to yet._

_So maybe it would be good for me to come and stay with you guys for a while? MAYBE Ali, that's a maybe! Don't go making any plans yet or telling Cathy said yes (I thought for a minute earlier that she had told my Mom already)._

_Love and kisses,_

_Bells_

* * *

It takes my cousin all of 5 minutes to ring me after hitting the 'send' button. I roll my eyes when I see who is calling, because I'm not surprised at all.

"So you're coming, then?" There is a low rumble of cars whizzing by in the background, and I hear her exhale heavily. I can almost smell the cigarette smoke through the phone.

"Is this just how you greet people now?" I ask teasingly, purposely not answering her question.

"Bells, I know you. You'll think about it too much and end up convincing yourself it's a bad idea, when you clearly want to come over. And then you'll spend the rest of the year stuck at home wishing you had just gone for it." She's right, she does know me.

"I know what you're saying, but it's a big decision. I'll be living in a completely different country." I pause, unsure if I should say this next part. "I'll be living with _you_. I mean, are you sure you're prepared for that? We haven't seen each other in a long time, and suddenly I'll be living in your house, and I'm really annoying sometimes, Ali. Like, super annoying. I'm loud, and I sing all the time, and I can be very passive-aggressive –"

"Bella," she interrupts, laughing my name through chattering teeth. "I want to live with you. I know I've been pushing you about this though, and I'm sorry. It's not like me. If you decide it's not the right step for you now, I'll understand and I won't be upset. But I would really love you to. I've been missing you a lot lately."

Her voice gets gradually quieter until she stops speaking altogether, and I'm reeling from the realisation I just had while I was listening to her talk. Because she's right; this isn't like her at all. Alice would never usually bother trying to convince anyone to do anything. She isn't a forceful person; it just isn't in her nature. For whatever reason, she wants me there very badly.

"I miss you too," I whisper. "Ali, are you okay? You know you can talk to me."

"I'm fine," she insists, not sounding very fine at all.

"Okay," I answer, not pushing her. I know there's something going on with her, and she knows that I know. That's enough for now. "I think I will come and stay with you then, if you'll have me."

"Of course we'll have you," she says flippantly, but I can tell she's pleased. "You had better go and tell Renee now, because I don't know how much longer my Mum can keep quiet about it. You're lucky she's so good at keeping secrets."

"I know. I will. I'll call you soon and let you know what's happening."

"Okay, talk to you soon."

I hang up the phone feeling inexplicably calmer. I still don't know what I'm going to do with my life now, or what kind of person I'm going to be, but I have time to figure that stuff out. And I can do it while I'm living in England.

* * *

I think my Mom is more excited about my leaving the country than I am.

"Oh, you're going to have such a wonderful time! You'll have some brilliant experiences, and these are the years to do it." She squeezes me hard, trapping my arms against my sides in her embrace, and I mouth 'help me' at Phil as he watches us in amusement.

"You'll have a blast, Bella," he agrees, grinning at me.

"Thanks guys. I knew you'd be cool about it," I say gratefully. I really am thankful. I couldn't ask for a more supportive Mom, or a more supportive Phil.

"Of course we would!" Mom answers. "When Cathy suggested it to me I almost answered yes for you!"

Wait, what?

"And it's not that we don't want you around darling, it's been lovely having you back at home. But I know you're –"

"Wait, what? You already knew I might go?" She looks at me patiently, and the corners of her mouth are curling like she's trying not to laugh at me.

"Did you think you and Alice are the only ones who talk? I knew days ago! Ha, as if my sister could keep something like that from me. I knew you would need some time to think things over on your own without me confusing you even more." She tucks a thick lock of long hair behind my ear for me. "I was dying to ask you about it earlier though."

"I knew it, I told Alice earlier I thought you knew! Fancy you keeping quiet about it for all that time, you must have been ready to explode," I tease. I really am amazed that she managed to keep quiet, and honestly, grateful. I know she would have been trying to encourage me to go, and that on top of Alice's persistence would have driven me crazy.

"Oh hush, you," she says, poking me on the arm.

"How long do you think you'll stay for?" Phil asks.

"I don't really know." I have been thinking about this since I got off the phone with Alice, and I'm not sure if I should set a date to come home.

"You don't have to decide anything now," Mom says breezily, waving her hand in dismissal. "The invitation was open-ended. Cathy says she's happy to have you for as long as you'd like to stay, be it weeks or years. And she doesn't expect any money from you either."

"Oh no, Mom, I can't do that." How can I live in their house and not pay my way? That would be completely unfair.

"Of course you can! God knows, she has more than enough money to keep you without it making a dent in her wallet –"

"That's not the point!"

"And you have your savings," she continues, as if I hadn't just spoken, "that will get you by as far as spending money is concerned, and if you want to get a little job, well, I don't know how it works but you were born in the UK so you're technically a British citizen, so we can find out about that." This is the most organised I have ever heard my Mom. It's kind of freaking me out a little bit.

"And we'll pay for your plane ticket," Phil interjects.

"Oh guys, no," I complain. I know they don't have a lot of money, and this is the last thing they need. "Thank you so much for the offer, but I've got plenty in my savings, it's not an issue."

"Nonsense!" Mom insists. "You're my daughter, it's the very least we can do for you. I'm going to call Cathy so we can get the ball rolling. Phil, why don't you get the suitcases out of the attic so she can start packing? It's going to take a while for you to do it, so you might as well start now."

I can't believe how quickly this is all happening. I must look like I'm panicking because Phil tells Mom to calm down a bit and give me some time to wrap my head around all of this, but I insist that she is right and that I want to leave as soon as I can.

If I'm going to do this, I might as well throw myself head first into it, right?


	2. Chapter Two: VCR

**Warning: Drug use and bad language ahead!**

* * *

_"Watch things on VCRs_

_With me and talk about big love_

_I think we're superstars_

_You say you think we are the best thing_

_But you, you just know_

_You just do"_

_- VCR by The xx_

* * *

I have never been the kind of person who makes impulsive life-changing decisions. Every single choice is measured, and every possible outcome is prepared for. The most reckless thing I have ever done was dropping out of college, and even that was a long process of weighing my options and discussing my choices with dozens of people and signing countless forms, and lots of other very unexciting but necessary steps. I have always wished that I was more like my mother. When I was little, I was in awe of her. She dazzled. I spent my childhood chasing her glow, following her through adventures and escapades, and all the while hoping that some of her radiance would rub off on me. But as I grew older, I just seemed to grow more cautious, until I found myself trapped in a sensible college with a sensible boyfriend and a very sensible future spread out ahead of me, and I couldn't understand how I had gotten myself there.

Mom used to joke that I was born an old grandma, and that as I'm getting older I'm only ageing into my personality. Believe it or not, she means that in a nice way. I think she used to worry that I would be like her. I know how proud she is of my maturity and stability. But I don't want to be like that; I don't want to be the grandma. I don't feel like that on the inside. I want to be silly and make mistakes and be reckless and be _young_, because I _am_ young. Realistically though, I knew that the person I so badly wanted to be just wasn't me, and so I wrote it off as one of those things in life that I would have to accept. Like when you see someone with a drastic and glamorous haircut that you love, but you know it would never suit you the same way because the shape of your face is too different.

So you will be able to imagine how I'm feeling now as I sit on a Gatwick bound airplane with all of my worldly possessions crammed into two suitcases rattling around somewhere beneath my feet. I must have switched bodies with someone, like Freaky Friday or some shit, because this certainly is not my life.

The flight attendant's name is Candy (the kind that rots your teeth) and she is telling us in a saccharine voice that the weather in Sussex today is a pleasant 17 degrees Celsius and that we will be landing shortly so please buckle your seatbelts when the light goes on, and I want to shout to Candy that there has been some kind of mistake because I shouldn't be here.

And the next thing I know I'm being swept down an airport corridor amid a sea of bustling passengers, and now I'm waiting in line to show my passport to the customs official, and I'm looking at my little photograph, staring into my own eyes, and it's like I don't even know who I am. And now I'm wheeling my suitcases behind me, one handle in each hand, my guitar case slung over my back on a strap, and I'm walking through Arrivals feeling absurdly worried that nobody will be there waiting for me when I know that they will. My cousin and my Auntie will both be there to pick me up; we've gone over it a hundred times. I know this, but the anxiety is still there.

I'm going slowly, scanning for familiar faces in the crowd and wobbling slightly on my new boots because I'm not used to the heel yet. I hear someone to the right of me call my name and I turn my head hesitantly to look for who it was. I feel ill at ease knowing that they can see me but I can't see them yet, and I smooth my sun-lightened brown hair down in an attempt to combat the 11 hour flight induced frizz.

And then I see a pair of hands holding up a sign high in the air, stretching to reach it over the head of a tall man at the front of the crowd, and the sign says 'Bells' in elegant swirling calligraphy – the classiness of which is then promptly ruined by the two crudely drawn phallic shapes next to my name. The tall man is nudged to the side as my petite cousin slips by him, and I can hear my Auntie Cathy apologising to him as Alice is flying full pelt towards me, and I barely have enough time to let go of the handles on my suitcases before she's hugging me tighter than anyone has ever hugged me in my life. I feel another pair of arms wrap around us from behind me across my guitar so it's like a Bella sandwich, and I think I can hear Cathy crying a little bit, and I kind of feel like crying too. We stand in that position holding each other for a few minutes, which doesn't sound like very long, but in hugging terms that's quite a lengthy time. I take a few calming breaths and try to get a handle on my emotions, which seem to be all over the place at the moment.

"Oh God, how could it have been so long since we last saw you?" Cathy asks herself, letting go of me and dabbing at her eyes in the careful way that people do when they don't want to smudge their makeup. I lean my cheek against her shoulder in response.

"Do you like the sign?" Alice asks me, resting it up against her body tucked underneath her chin. She's not crying but her huge dark eyes look a bit shiny behind all of that smoky eye shadow. "Get it? Bells? Like bell ends?"

"I get it, Ali, very clever," I laugh. "It's perfect, thank you, I love it."

"Let's get you back to the house," Cathy says in her gentle voice. I forgot how softly spoken my Auntie was. My mom's voice is husky and sexy, and my cousin sounds like wind chimes, but Cathy has the kind of voice that makes you feel like everything is always going to be okay, like you can trust her with anything. Which is an extremely handy voice for a psychiatrist to have.

Cathy takes the handle of one of my suitcases and Alice takes the other one, and with her free hand she clasps my hand tightly and she doesn't let go of it until we're home.

Later that night I'm lying in bed with Alice's little feet facing me, dark blue polish on her toenails, and I can't believe how quickly we have reverted back to our childhood selves. The house is three stories and there are plenty of empty rooms to choose from, but tonight we are sleeping tops and tails in her bed again like we did when we were kids. Her feet are digging out an emergency exit in the covers just as they used to all those years ago, because she feels trapped without them out in the open air. We stay up until the early hours of the morning talking about nothing and everything, until the spaces between our breaths increase along with the spaces between our words, and I can't remember who spoke last or what I said. She mumbles "Night Bells, love you," and taps me on the head with her toes until I say it back, "Night Ali, love you," and I fall asleep feeling more at peace than I have in a very long time.

* * *

I wake up the next morning before Alice. It is 6:00am and usually the only time I'm ever awake this early is when I still haven't gone to bed the night before, but I think my mind must be on a plane crossing over time zones somewhere still because I feel completely alert. I carefully lift myself up off the bed, trying not to jostle my sleeping cousin, and take her fluffy leopard print dressing gown from the back of the door to put on over the long Crystal Castles shirt I borrowed from her last night when I couldn't be bothered to unpack my own pyjamas. My bare feet are chilly as I pad along the cream carpeted hallway and make my way downstairs. I'm not used to the sudden temperature change yet, although Alice assured me last night that this is fairly warm for England in June.

I go to the kitchen and find my Aunt up and getting ready for work. I sit at the dark stained wood table with my hands wrapped around my cartoon cat mug of coffee (which tastes different to the kind we have back at home, but still good), and talk to her while she pops in and out of the kitchen at various stages of readiness, holding toast between her teeth and packing stacks of papers into a nice looking leather bag. She offers to make me breakfast about five times which I decline, insisting that I don't eat much first thing in the morning – which is a lie, of course, but I don't want to make her late for work.

She comes back into the kitchen one last time looking lovely and ready to go, her shoulder length caramel hair sleek and shiny and perfectly styled, wearing a black pencil skirt and a sensible white blouse. She bends down to my chair and gives me a big kiss on the cheek, leaving a coral lip print on my face, which she then tries to rub off with her thumbs while I giggle. This feels so easy and normal. I can't believe it was only a matter of hours ago that I was sitting on a plane and contemplating throwing up into my hand luggage.

I finish my coffee and put my mug in the dishwasher (they have a dishwasher, how great is that?), and decide to wait for Alice to wake up before I make breakfast because I don't know what she likes to eat any more When I used to come over here before, her dad would set out bags of candy and chocolate and boxes of cereals for us, and breakfast time would become a time for us to create something brilliant (and unhealthy). Darius was always coming up with fun things like that. When Auntie Cathy found out what he was letting us eat every morning she shouted at him, but she could never stay angry with him for long because he'd always find a way to make her laugh while she was trying to tell him off. Once you laugh, it's impossible to carry on shouting, which is really annoying.

I spend a while nosing around the house, since I figure this is a perfect opportunity to do it while nobody is here watching me. I know they wouldn't mind of course, and this is my house too now really, but it still feels like I'm doing something a bit wrong. It's changed since I was here last, which seeing as that was about 8 years ago now, is expected. The walls and carpets are still cream and the woods are still dark and varnished, but there are lots of interesting knick knacks now, and cosy mismatched cushions, and photos that I don't recognise; although there are a few that I do. On a bookshelf in the study I find a photograph in a clear glass frame that gives me a laugh echo. You know those weird laugh echoes, where you burst out laughing suddenly whenever you remember something funny that happened a long time ago? In this photograph, Alice is brushing a shocking violet eye shadow onto the space beneath her dad's eyebrows while I am painting his nails bright Barbie pink. Ali and I must have been about 6, because I am wearing that lady bug hair clip that I refused to take off for a whole year, except for when I had to have my hair washed. Anyway, Uncle Darius looked so funny that Cathy used up all the film of a whole disposable camera taking pictures of him. Alice must have poked him in the eye about 100 times with that brush, and he didn't even complain once. He was such a great dad.

My cousin finds me a few hours later curled up on the end of the brown leather sofa, watching daytime television in the living room. She trudges in wearing pyjamas with little peace signs all over them, her dark jaw length hair sticking up all over the place haphazardly yet artfully, and drops herself down at the other end of the sofa, curling up and mirroring my position.

"How long have you been up?" she asks, her voice rough with sleep still.

"Since about 6 this morning," I answer. "I think this is what jet lag feels like."

"God, I don't even know what 6am looks like sober," she says, rubbing her tired eyes and smudging yesterday's mascara all over her face. "Have you have brekkie?"

"Have I had what-y?" I ask, confused. I don't have the slightest clue what she just asked me.

"Brekkie? Like breakfast. Oh, this is one of those language barrier things."

"Yeah, it's fanny pack all over again," I say, smiling when Alice snickers at the word 'fanny' like I knew she would. "No, I've been waiting for you to wake up before I have _brekkie_." I say the last word in a terrible overly Cockney sounding British accent, making Alice roll her eyes.

"Come on then." She grabs my hand and pulls me up off the couch, leading me out through the hallway and into the kitchen. "Scrambled eggs? Pancakes? Fry up? By the way, I have no idea how to make any of those things."

"Pancakes sound good. I was thinking early about the breakfasts we used to make with your dad when I stayed over here, do you remember?" Her face freezes, and says breezily says that she does remember and then quickly changes the subject. I feel like an idiot for bringing up, and wish I could take it back, but instead I adopt the fake light-hearted tone that she used and go along with her subject change, making a mental note not to mention her dad in the future.

We look up a recipe for blueberry pancakes on Alice's iPhone and make a terrible mess trying to follow it, using far too many bowls and pans and eating most of the blueberries before we even get the chance to add them to the mixture. As we sit down at the table to eat, I feel unreasonably proud of our misshapen little pancakes.

"I bet they'll taste better than they look," I say as I drown them in maple syrup.

"They do," Alice confirms after swallowing her mouth full of food. "Although Emmett would probably be horrified."

"He's really into his cooking?" I ask, licking syrup as it drips down my hand.

"Uh huh," she says. "He's actually getting good. You'll probably meet him and the others later, if you're up for it."

"Sure," I agree, stuffing my mouth with more pancakey goodness. I expected that I would be seeing Emmett and Jasper soon after I got here. The two of them and Alice all grew up together, so naturally I've heard a lot about them both from my cousin over the years.

As we are cleaning up the mess we made in the kitchen, I happen to glimpse over my shoulder out the window above the sink and nearly scream. A weird little squeaky sound comes out of my throat instead, as I jab Alice sharply with my elbow to get her attention.

"Ali," I hiss, trying to stretch the long t-shirt down further to cover my bare thighs. "Ali, there is a man in your garden staring at us through the window." She glances behind us distractedly, and turns back to carry on wiping the counter with a cloth.

"He looks like he's just measuring our fence or something," she says, sounding completely unconcerned. Okay...

"It's been a while since I've been to the UK so you'll have to remind me," I say, grabbing the dressing gown I had slung over the back of a dining chair and hurriedly putting it on, all the while trying to control the urge to laugh hysterically at the absurdity of the situation. "Is this normal here?"

"Oh, that's nothing," Alice says airily, blowing wisps of hair away from her eyes. "One time me and Mum were in here eating lunch with the back door open, and this woman walked right into our house with her dog. Apparently she had jst moved in down the road or something."

"Well I don't know how things are done where you're from, but I'm from well to do Californian suburbia. Not crazy England town where anything goes." Alice snorts and bumps her hips with mine so hard I have to steady myself on the blue marble counter.

"Go and get dressed, Miss California. I'm going to call the others over here soon."

* * *

I'm sitting in Alice's living room with her friends and they are wonderful wonderful wonderful, and my cheeks hurt from smiling so much, and in the back of my chest there's this little ache that is saying 'this could have been your life'.

"Okay, so you're Peter and Charlotte's kid," I say to Emmett, who is sprawled out on the rug in the middle of the floor with his head resting on his arms and his legs kicking in their air like a little boy. The boy is anything but little though. I'd seen pictures of him and the others on Facebook before, but they did not do his size justice. He must be at least 6'3", and _ripped_. You see a lot of muscled guys living in Cali, and this one would fit in no problem if it weren't for the fact that his skin is even paler than mine.

"I'm Peter and Charlotte's kid," he confirms. Alice, who is sitting on the floor by his head with her legs crossed over each other and a cold bottle of beer resting in her lap, ruffles his hair in a rather aggressive manner. "Oi!" Emmett runs a hand through his black tufts, trying to arrange them in that purposefully messed up kind of way that guys like nowadays, and with his other hand tries to grab Alice so he can exact revenge. She yelps, and I tuck my feet up onto the sofa to avoid them both, my smile hiding behind my knees. I catch Jasper's eyes, deep blue and heavy-lidded, and he shares my easy grin.

"And your parents are Carlisle and Esme?" I ask him. He nods in affirmation from his place on the armchair a few feet away from me. Jasper is the kind of person who has an effortless presence that makes people feel at ease without even having to say anything. He's spent most of the time watching us speak and kid around, only adding to the conversation when he feels he has something to contribute, but despite that, it doesn't feel like he's on the sidelines watching in. I like him a lot.

"And her parents are no one," Emmett jokes as he easily flips Alice up over his shoulder, and nods towards Rosalie who is sitting on the sofa next to me.

"Hey! Just because my parents weren't involved in whatever weird swinging club all your folks were," she defends in an accent that I place as coming from somewhere to the north of England. Rosalie is loud and beautiful and funny, and she intimidates the hell out of me. She's the kind of person you kind of have to shout over to get heard, and I know we would get on easily, but I tend to shrink in on myself at first when I'm around people like that.

"Swinging club?" I ask in quiet amusement.

"Yeah, you know, your parents were all friends in the 80s or whatever, and they got up to all kinds of trouble, and had outrageous parties and fist fights and everyone fucked each other," Rosalie continues, gesticulating wildly with her tattooed arms and hands. "Or so I gather from the stories."

"You made it sound way more sordid than it actually was," Jasper says, looking highly entertained. Although from the things my Mom has told me over the years, and from some of the photographs I've seen, Rosalie's summary sounds pretty dead on to me. Mom left that life and those friends when I was less than a year old though; we packed up and moved to the States where my father was from. It only took him a few months to disappear off to god only knows where, and Mom decided to stay where she was despite that, which means I stayed there too.

"Well either way, I wasn't around when all that was going on," she explains to me, tucking her long legs up to the side of her. "I only met this lot a couple of years ago, when I started at Uni with Emmett."

"And you guys live together?" I feel so out of the loop right now, and I'm determined to memorize all of this information.

"We share a house with three other people. They're not as cool as us though," Emmett informs me seriously, and Rosalie nods her head in solemn agreement.

"They're not that bad Bells, you'll meet them at some point probably," says Alice, who is firmly back on the ground now, and fiddling with the quartz crystal pendant around her neck. She looks so pretty today; she looks pretty every day, but I can tell she has made a special effort for today. I know she has anticipated this meeting for a long time, and I think she was nervous I wouldn't like her friends, although she would never admit it. Her hair is flicked up a little at the ends, and she is wearing a woven braided headband that I think she might have made herself, and she has on a vintage looking lacy cream slip with a layered skirt that looks gorgeous against her olive skin. She takes after her Iranian father as far as her looks are concerned.

Rosalie has started telling us a story about her boyfriend, and she is standing up and acting it out with her whole body, and it's the funniest thing I've ever seen. Ali is sitting on the floor surrounded by her layers of lace, giggling into her beer bottle, and Emmett leaps up in order to join in with the retelling of the story, despite not knowing what happens next.

"I'll be the boyfriend," he announces, flexing his muscles theatrically and wearing a big cheesy grin. "Wait, which boyfriend is it this week?" He scratches his chin, pretending to think and looking at her innocently.

"Fuck off," Rosalie says, smacking him on the arm. "Although, did I tell you what one of Jasper's little brothers said to me the other day? He said, 'Rosie, you change your boyfriend more than I change my underpants.' Four years old, unbelievable. I said, 'Well, you must have very crusty pants then!'"

"How many brothers do you have?" I ask Jasper quietly, watching as the others forget about the end of Rosalie's story and move on to talking about something else.

"Two," he answers, leaning over the arm of his chair towards me so I can hear him better. "They're twins. And they're trouble." His voice is playful, and I can hear the affection in his voice when he talks about them. I smile wistfully.

"I think I would have liked a little brother or sister growing up." Rosalie has taken her heels off and is now standing balanced on Emmett's ass as he lies on his stomach on the floor. Every time he clenches his butt, she raises a couple of inches higher and cackles delightedly.

"Well they were born when I was 17, so I grew up as an only child too," he explains, his voice deep and quiet and calming. Emmett is probably the one in the group who gets most of the female attention, with his handsome boyish face and big arms and broad shoulders, but there's something about Jasper too. With his wavy dark blonde hair that falls in his eyes, and the indie folksy style he's got going on there, and his easy-going nature. Yeah, I bet he doesn't do too badly either.

"That must have been weird at first. Having to adjust to baby brothers after all that time on your own?" Did that sound nosy? I hope he doesn't think I'm being nosy.

"Yeah, it was kind of weird at first. One baby takes up enough time on its own, but twins? If one is happy, the other isn't. It's like a conveyor belt."

"A conveyor belt of shit and piss," Rosalie interjects, having eavesdropped on our conversation.

"Mate. You're sick," Emmett says wrinkling his nose.

"I'm sure we'll coax you into babysitting the conveyor belts with us at some point," Jasper says, although it sounds more like an offer than an assurance. I couldn't picture this guy being forceful if I tried.

"I wouldn't mind at all," I smile. If it meant spending more time with this people, I could deal with a bit of shit and piss. That may be one of the grossest things I have ever thought. Must remember not to repeat it out loud.

"You know what I wouldn't mind?" Emmett asks roguishly, not waiting for an answer as he reached into his jeans pocket and pulled out a small plastic baggie of weed.

"Oh, nice one!" Rosalie reaches her hands out for him to pass over the papers and starts rolling a joint, using a credit card from Emmett's wallet to tuck the end of the paper under and keep it neat.

"I've never seen anyone roll like that before," I say to Alice as she leads me through the kitchen and out of the back door, looking over my shoulder at Jasper who is following us outside.

"Yeah, weird right? I've tried to show her how to do it properly but she can't do it any other way. Not that we're big time stoners or anything. Strictly special occasions." Alice holds my hand and pulls me down next to her onto a garden swing love seat. Jasper heads for a plastic garden chair beside us but Alice grabs his hand too as he passes, and tugs him down to sit on the other side of her. The swing is meant for two people so we have to squeeze up, and Alice and I giggle and cross our legs over one another's.

Rosalie and Emmett laugh when they come outside and find us like this, with poor Jasper squished up against the metal rails of the garden swing in a way that can't be very comfortable. Emmett insists on perching on Jasper's lap while he lights up the joint, and probably would have stayed there if Rosalie hadn't voiced her concerns about the structure of the swing.

"Unless that swing made of adamantium, the frame isn't gonna be able to support you for much longer, you beast." Emmett stands up and lifts Rosalie easily off of her garden seat with the joint dangling from his mouth, sitting down in her place and plopping her onto his lap while she grumbles about being comfortable where she was.

"Have Rosalie and Emmett ever gotten together?" I whisper to Alice once the joint is making its second circuit around us, as she examines the heart line on my palm.

I'm interested to know the answer, but really I just want an excuse to engage my cousin in conversation. I've been watching her more carefully today and there's definitely something off. She's been distant and easily distracted during conversations with her friends. One minute she'll be talking and laughing and joining in, and then a bit of time will pass and I'll suddenly realise that she hasn't spoken for a long while.

"Not as far as I know," Alice whispers back. "We're all like family. This is just normal for us, touch feely and sitting on each other's laps and all that stuff."

"So none have you have ever, like... you know, gotten carried away?"

"Oh, don't get me wrong, stuff happens occasionally after we've had far too much to drink. But sex? I don't know. I'm not sure I'd see Em in the same way ever again if I knew what his dick looked like." We collapse into private giggles, the hilarity of what she'd said exaggerated by the weed we'd just smoked.

"The two of you together are so funny," Jasper comments, watching us with gleaming eyes as he reaches for the joint that Rosalie passes to him. "It's like you're always conspiring about something. You're different people when you're next to each other. It's nice." Alice and I smile at that, and I know we are both thinking about how much what Jasper just said reminds us of what people would say to us all the time when we were little. I am so grateful that we have slipped back into our old friendship with such ease.

"You know what else is nice? This weed," Alice declares, taking it from Jasper's hand and inhaling loudly. Emmett informs us that it is apparently called Soylent Green, and Jasper and I cry out simultaneously 'Soylent Green is people!' causing us to laugh delightedly at each other whilst everybody else is confused by the reference.

We keep our little get together outside for the rest of the day because Jasper and Ali want to smoke (just tobacco this time), and I ask lots of questions and answer far more about myself, and I listen to these strangers swapping stories as I breathe in the warm billowing cigarette clouds surrounding us, and I see how happy my cousin is, my lovely lovely cousin, surrounded by everyone she loves all together at last, and I feel that sad murmuring ache in my chest again. This could have been your life this should have been your life. And so I blot it out, and vow instead to make the most of the time I have here _right now_, and spend the rest of the day and night getting to know these strangers who don't feel like strangers at all.

* * *

**A/N: Thanks so much to anybody who has taken the time to read this, I really appreciate it! Any feedback would also be hugely appreciated :) This is the first time I've ever really put something I've written out there, so please do let me know if you're enjoying the story so far or if you have any constructive criticism for me. Lots of love x x**


	3. Chapter Three: We're Going To Be Friends

_"Tonight I'll dream while I'm in bed_

_When silly thoughts go through my head_

_About the bugs and alphabet_

_And when I wake tomorrow I'll bet_

_That you and I will walk together again_

_I can tell that we are going to be friends"_

_- We're Going To Be Friends by The White Stripes_

* * *

The next morning, Alice wakes up before me. I am in my own bed this time, in one of the white rooms on the top floor across from my cousin's room. White walls, white net curtains, frilly white bedspread, white everything. The house has more rooms than they have purposes for, so they've ended up leaving a few of the rooms bare and neutral. Cathy has told me I can paint the walls or do whatever I like to my room to make it my own, so I think I'll get on that as soon as I've decided on a colour scheme. At the moment I'm too afraid to bring any food or drinks upstairs with me (unless it's milk or vanilla ice cream) for fear of spilling it.

I wake up with Alice's thin face hovering above my own, close enough that I can see each one of her long dark eyelashes.

"Why?" is all I can muster together right now, turning over onto my side and snuggling up deeper into the covers. I am so warm and toasty, and I am never ever leaving this bed.

"Because it's nearly midday and I want to see you." She throws open the curtains forcefully, which doesn't make the slightest difference in light to the room because they are sheer anyway. Dramatic cow. "I made you a cup of coffee, come downstairs and have it before it goes cold."

I lumber downstairs wearing my giant comfy cable knit cream sweater over the nightshirt from yesterday that I still haven't given back, feeling much grumpier than I usually do in the mornings. It's not like I float out of bed at 6am, trilling joyously while blue birds dress me or anything, but I have always been a morning person. I like having those few hours at the start of my day where I can cosy up around my warm coffee and spend some time on my own with a book or something before everyone else wakes up. I actually look forward to it, which freaks a lot of people out.

"You look nice," Alice greets me as I make my way into the kitchen and fall into a chair at the table.

"I hate you," I reply, unsure if she is being sarcastic but not caring much either way. She places a giant cup of coffee in front of me with just right amount of milk, and next to it a plate of marmite on toast. "Oh, I take it back. You know me so well." I haven't had marmite in years. It's so hard to find in the US, and if you do manage to find it, it costs you a bomb. I take a big bite out of a slice of the toast, the strong smell instantly taking me back to my childhood.

"I thought we could go to the park," she says, making herself a cup of tea next to me. "Meet up with the others and chill outside for a while, it's hot out there today. Fancy it?" I nod and give her a thumbs up, unable to speak around all the toast I have crammed into my mouth. That sounds like fun.

"Ok, cool." She smiles a little, the corner of her mouth tilting up. She doesn't full on grin at everything for no reason, not like me. I think she knows it makes her seem kind of mysterious, and it makes you feel ultra satisfied with yourself when you do manage to make her smile properly.

I don't notice this very often, because she's my family and we grew up like sisters and I know her better than anyone else. But she's a cool person, my cousin. She has a vibe about her, with her high cheekbones and nose ring and interesting style, and her crystals and cards and palm reading. She makes you feel a little bit cooler just by hanging out with her. I wonder if anyone else sees the side to her that I do, the fun happy giggly Ali that slept tops and tails with me in that bed on my first night here.

* * *

We walk to the park with our hands interlocked, her numerous rings pressing into the flesh of my fingers as we talk about her friends. I wonder if the people on the street passing by think that we're lovers, and the thought makes me smile.

"They all think you're lovely," Alice informs me, lifting our hands up over a post as we walk past it either side.

"I think they're lovely too," I say, because I do. I'm wearing a yellow sun dress I borrowed from her, and she is a couple of inches shorter than I am so it ends around mid-thigh length. The cut is very flattering though, and it emphasises my curvy hips. Alice has always been small and slim and petite all over, whereas I am slightly more pear-shaped, with small boobs and a bigger bum. Yellow dress, yellow eye shadow, I look very yellow today and it's making me feel pretty and summery.

"You came at just the right time of year, because Emmett and Rosalie are out of Uni until September now. So you'll be able to hang out with them while I'm at work, if you want to." I am so lucky, moving to a new country with a group of ready made friends for me. "And Jasper works at a coffee place down the road from my shop, so you've got a supply of free drinks there."

"Won't he be in trouble?" I ask, stopping for a minute and holding Alice back with me so that I can slip my feet further into my sandals that keep coming off while I'm walking.

"Nah, they all do it. It's no big deal." She laughs suddenly, one big burst of 'ha!' as she thinks of something. "Besides, can you imagine anyone being angry with Jasper? I've known him for forever and I don't think we've ever had a proper argument. Like, I can't even imagine what we would fight about. Emmett, on the other hand..."

"You've fought with Emmett?" I say, surprised, and honestly, kind of amused. Emmett is over 6 feet tall, and I am imagining him holding my 5'1" cousin away by the forehead as she tries to swing for him. Alice would probably not find my mental picture as hilarious as I do.

"We used to fight like mad when we were kids. We always loved each other but we got on each other's nerves sometimes, like brothers and sisters do. He still drives me bat shit crazy," she says fondly. "You'll see what I mean."

She trails her other hand along the fence next to her, her fingers bumping along the criss cross wire pattern as she passes. She always has to touch everything she walks by still. I have the ridiculous urge to French skip along the sidewalk with her. You know where you link crossed hands behind your back and skip in step with one another? Something about the shining sun and being with her today is making feel like a little girl again.

We walk through a big arched wrought iron gate and into a wooded area, following a wide trail through the trees. A few people jog past us, and I see a family with a dog playing on a giant tree trunk stump in the woods next to the path. This is familiar.

"Have we been here before? Years ago when I came to visit?" I ask, sure that the answer is yes.

"Probably," she says, not sounding like she is paying much attention. I wait for her to continue, but she doesn't say anything else and doesn't look in my direction, so I drop it.

We emerge from the woods onto a massive green field, spread out as far as I can see, with a kid's playground just ahead of us and a long river winding to the right of us. There's a path adjacent to the river with benches all along the way, and I can see kids throwing bread to the ducks with their pudgy hands. It's a proper British park. You don't get places like this where I'm from. It's a sunny day out, and there are people everywhere, running around screaming and playing soccer and throwing sticks for their dogs.

I can't see Alice's friends anywhere. She seems to know where she's going though, and she leads me down past the playground and towards a patch of trees. It's a bit hillier around here, and we laugh as we go a little bit faster down one of the dips, still holding hands, our legs automatically speeding up downhill to keep us going.

Jasper is leaning back against one of the trees smoking a hand-rolled cigarette, and he looks up at us smiling when he spots us, holding his brown trilby onto the back of his head to stop it from sliding off. We sit down on the grass in front of him, and he leans forward to pass the rest of his cigarette to Alice who takes it from him gratefully.

"The other two will be here soon," he tells me in his usual friendly baritone. "They live a bit further away." He looks so relaxed, propped up against that tree with his hands resting behind his head and his legs lying out in front of him. Another person who is obviously comfortable with themselves.

Alice chats away, telling us about the healing properties of rose quartz and how she's going to make us all some jewellery with it because it might help us to be happy and accept love into our lives or something. Jasper asks her if she really believes in all of this stuff, and she shrugs, looking down at the daisy chain in her lap that her fingers are skilfully weaving.

"I don't really know. I don't _not_ believe in it. I suppose I don't know what to believe it, so I believe in everything a little bit." This actually makes sense to me, and it must make sense to Jasper too because he nods and doesn't ask her anything else about it.

We spot Emmett and Rosalie making their way over to us. Alice makes the daisy chain into a crown and places it delicately over the top of my head, and Jasper tells me that I look like a flower fairy. My cheeks flush, and I think that it is the nicest and most unusual compliment I've ever received.

Rosalie kisses Alice on the cheek in greeting and hands us all a plastic picnic tumbler, while Emmett swings a heavy looking plastic carrier bag over Jasper's head and knocks his hat clean off.

"Careful with that!" Rosalie admonishes, lowering herself onto the ground next to us. She's wearing high-waisted denim shorts and I swear the girl is all legs. They go up to her armpits from the looks of it. "You can be the one to open those now. They'll probably explode in your face, and I'll laugh."

"Why do you hurt me so?" Emmett asks her, pulling out three 2 litre bottles of soda. Good job they had the foresight to buy some drinks – or more likely, good job Rosalie had the foresight, because we've only been out here for about 20 minutes and I'm already parched. The temperature is nowhere close to what I left in California, but it's still hot out and there isn't much of a breeze to relieve you from the heat.

Emmett fills my glass with a purple drink called Dandelion and Burdock and assures me I'll like it, and it's the strangest drink I've ever tasted, but I do like it. Jasper lets me have a sip of his ginger beer, which I've tried before and I like too, although it burns the back of my throat a little bit and makes me cough.

Alice undoes the straps on her black wedges and I slip my sandals off my feet too. She's wearing a couple of toe rings on each foot, and she leans forwards and takes one of them off, slipping it onto the middle toe of my left foot. It's silver and flimsy, just a cheap little thing that she probably got in a pack of ten or something, but it's pretty.

"Thanks Ali," I smile at her, my hands leaning behind me in the grass as I wiggle my bare toes happily.

"Ali?" Emmett asks, looking at my cousin with glee on his face. "How did I not know about this nickname?"

"_You_ aren't allowed to call me that," she tells him firmly, nodding towards him just in case there was any confusion about who she meant when she said 'you'.

"What about Ali Baba? Or Back-Ali Sally? Or how about Ali Cat?" he fires off quickly, and I can almost see the cogs in his eyes turning as he's thinking of more Ali-related nicknames he can use.

"Oh my god," Alice says, sounding exasperated. "You are so fucking annoying!"

"Probably more like Ali Kitten. You know, because you're so short," he continues as if she hadn't spoken, a mischievous glint in his warm honey eyes. Alice scowls.

"I am just as tall as everyone else, if not taller," she declares, making us all laugh. "Anyway, not all of us can be jolly green giants like you."

"I think you meant jolly pale giant," Jasper suggests helpfully, earning himself a punch on the arm from Emmett that would probably have dislocated my shoulder.

Rosalie, Alice, and Jasper decide to move several meters further away into the sun so they can sunbathe, while Emmett and I stay protected under the shade. They are laying on the grass spread out side by side, the girls both flat on their fronts with their heads turned to face each other so that they can talk, and Jasper lying on his back with his hat over his face and his arms behind his head. Every now and then Emmett shouts to them "enjoy your skin cancer, fuckers!" or something to that effect, and Jasper gives him two fingers up in response, like a backwards peace sign. I had forgotten that was rude in Britain, I must be careful not to do it accidentally and gravely offend somebody.

Emmett and I talk happily. He's the easiest person ever to get on with, and he keeps the conversation going effortlessly without any awkward silences or pauses. He asks me a lot of questions about living in America, and not because he's just looking for something to talk about, but because I can tell he is genuinely fascinated by my answers.

"What do Twinkies taste like?" he asks curiously, making me snort with amusement – very attractive, I know.

"They're pretty good. Just like spongy cake filled with cream."

"What about tootsie rolls?" I am actually quite amazed at how many types of American candy he can name. I wouldn't be able to do it with British sweets, and I put it down to all the US TV and movies they show over here. I suppose English kids grow up around American culture.

"They're kind of chewy and chocolatey. You get them in different flavours too, and inside lollipops." He hums in understanding and approval.

"I've already tried Hershey's kisses. No offence but they taste like sick." I laugh and agree. I much prefer the chocolate they have over here. Cathy used to send me home with my suitcase packed full of Dairy Milk chocolate bars, which Mom would always steal and eat while I was at school.

Rosalie is standing up now, and Alice is taking pictures of her with a digital camera. I can't hear what they're saying, but judging by Alice's arms movements she is telling Rosalie how to stand and when to turn to the side.

"What are they doing?" I ask Emmett, watching Rosalie dramatically swing her thick blonde hair over her shoulder as Alice throws her head back and shouts 'dahling!' at her while taking pictures.

"Rosalie runs a fashion blog and she makes us take pictures of her outfits," Emmett explains, sounding bored even talking about it.

"Oh, that sounds kind of cool," I say, looking back at Rosalie and paying more attention to her clothes. She's wearing a red cropped top that almost reaches the top of her high-waisted shorts, leaving a little strip of tanned skin exposed on her stomach, and some long chain necklaces that I can't make out the details of from this far away. She's also got on a pair of wayfarers, her thick blunt bangs brushing the tops of them. She looks effortlessly striking.

"It's not," Emmett jokes. "Nah, it is pretty cool I suppose. She has a fair amount of readers apparently."

"I'm not surprised. She looks like a model or something." The serious photographing session turns playful very quickly, and before I know it Ali is running over to me and pulling me up with her to pose while Rosalie takes pictures of us. We spring about with bare feet in the grass, and I really do feel like an actual flower fairy, twirling and pirouetting with my little pixie of a cousin while the boys watch us.

I rush back over to sit next to Emmett after a few minutes, out of breath and hot in the face but cheerful after our impromptu photo shoot. I don't know why I do this, but as balance on my knees in the grass and fill my glass with more Dandelion and Burdock, I start to tell him about one of my last summers here as a child. He listens thoughtfully and watches the girls lie back down next to Jasper, as I tell him about how when Alice and I were 8 we ran around with no shoes on the hottest day of the year and both got feet full of splinters. Alice's dad soaked our feet in the bath and gently plucked each splinter out with a pair of tweezers, and then he called us Bella-jan and Ali-jan and he made us grilled cheese sandwiches with tomato slices.

"He was a good guy," Emmett says, grinning at my story. "He was always the one we'd go to if we were sad or need to be cheered up. Cathy for the advice and sympathy, Darius for the cheering up." I nod my head in agreement, feeling relieved to be able to talk about him with somebody. My uncle is an integral part of my memories here, and he is intertwined with everything I see and do. I've had the distinct impression from Alice since I've been here that she doesn't want to talk about him, so I've avoided the subject, but it feels unnatural to do so.

"Were you close with him?" I ask quietly. Emmett nods his head, leaning further back against the big trunk of the oak tree I'm sharing with him.

"We all were. But yeah. I think I probably spent more time with him than with my own dad. My dad's not a bad guy, but he's not really the play sports with your son type if you know what I mean," he tells me.

"Yeah," I say softly in understanding. Emmett tilts his face to the side and scrutinises me.

"You know, you're nothing like I thought you would be." I wait for him to continue, unsure of what he's going to say next. "I was expecting another Alice, and I know you two are like peas in a pod but you're not much like her really. I don't mean looks wise, although you do look different and everything. Just how you are. You're more like Cathy."

"My mom always jokes that they switched us accidentally when we were babies. Alice is more like her," I say, feeling a little bit surprised that he even noticed that about me. To be completely honest, I kind of had him pegged as a joker and not a lot else, but there's more to him. He's observant. He understands people.

"Yeah. My mum still talks about your mum all the time. She sounds like a fun person."

"She is," I beam, making a mental note of that so I can tell her about it later. She'll like that. "She was great fun when we were growing up. She was always coming up with exciting new activities for us to do."

Our conversation is interrupted by the others rushing over for another drink, and then Emmett stands up and lifts Alice up onto his shoulders while she orders him to put her down, although the fact that she's squealing while saying this makes it a lot more difficult to take her seriously.

"What is it with you and picking people up?" she asks, smacking him on top of his head from her perch above his shoulders. "Just because I'm smaller than you, doesn't mean you can lift me up all the time."

"That's exactly what it means," he bellows, holding onto her legs tightly and running around with her in a circle.

* * *

We all walk back from the park together, Emmett and Rosalie splitting off from the group first to get to their house and hugging us all goodbye. I like this hugging goodbye thing. I'm naturally a tactile person, always leaning over to touch people while I'm talking without even realising it. My college friends would not have like the hugging goodbye; I think it would have made them uncomfortable.

It's getting chilly all of a sudden now and I didn't bring a jacket with me. A freezing gust of wind blows past us and the shock of the cold makes me yelp and laugh through chattering teeth. Without saying anything, Jasper takes his jacket off and holds it open for me to slip my arms through. Ridiculously, I blush a bit as I comply and put the jacket on, feeling like I am in an old movie where all the men are gentlemen. The sleeves hang down past my hands and he immediately rolls them up to my wrists for me, making me feel little and feminine. I've never had a guy do something so thoughtful for me in my entire life (which is probably a bit sad), but Jasper doesn't even seem to be thinking about it; this stuff is just second nature to him.

Jasper heads off in a different direction a few minutes before we get to our road. He hands us the leftover soda so that we can drink it when we get home, and hugs us each and tells us that he'll see us soon.

The street lamps light up one by one as we walk past them and the sky is turning a pinkish grey. The weather is getting colder by the minute, and while the gesture was lovely, Jasper's jacket is paper thin and isn't doing much to shield me from the wind, so we're walking huddled together for warmth and tripping over each other's feet. We probably look daft but it's funny and I don't care. Ali counts 64 goose bumps on her arm before we reach the front door, and we when we get in we cosy up in front of the television watching Friends. They love Friends over here; it's on TV all the time. When Cathy gets in she has fish and chips for us to eat, all wrapped up in greasy white paper, and she asks us if we had a nice day, and we tell her that we did.

* * *

**A/N: Thanks for reading, and if you're enjoying the story so far, please do review and let me know! Coming up in the next chapter: the gang embarks on a treasure hunt, and Bella develops a little crush :)**


	4. Chapter Four: Holocene

_"And at once I knew I was not magnificent_

_High above the highway aisle_

_(Jagged vacance, thick with ice)_

_I could see for miles, miles, miles"_

_- Holocene by Bon Iver_

* * *

I managed nearly a year living at college, and it took some time to adjust to being away from home, but I didn't really ever feel homesick. I spent my entire time there trying to suppress this horrible longing in my chest, this ache of missing something and needing something that you don't have, and I thought maybe it was homesickness, but I came home and the ache was still there. After the relief had worn off in a few days, there it was, this longing, still hiding away underneath all of that other stuff.

I can remember watching Garden State in my bedroom a few weeks after being back. Alice had recommended it to me so I found it on Netflix, and to be honest it wasn't my kind of movie, but there was one line that stuck with me. Zach Braff tells Natalie Portman that he feels like he's homesick for a place that doesn't even exist. That line hit me like a punch in the gut, and I started crying, I actually started crying a little bit. I think it was because I realised that if I'm homesick for a place that doesn't exist, then this horrible feeling would probably never go away. I would just have to walk around living my life with the ache, the longing, and there would be nothing I could do about it.

I think maybe that's why I decided to come here. I knew I was unhappy and I knew I wanted something to change, but I wasn't sure what. I was at a point in my life where I was willing to go to drastic measures to solve the problem, and try things that I would never have previously considered, like dropping out of college or moving to another country. And that's where I'm at right now.

Which is why I'm so surprised at how much I miss my Mom after a week of being here. It's not like being at college. Being on a completely different continent from her and knowing that I can't just drive down and see her any time I like is much harder. This is completely illogical, because I never drove down to visit while I was at college anyway. But I always knew that I could if I wanted to.

It's comforting to know that we are at least connected by telephone lines, though.

"Hi baby! I miss you so much! How are you, are you having fun?"

"Hi Mom. I miss you too." I will not cry I will not cry I will not cry. "I'm good thanks, it's been really fun. How are things your end?"

"Oh, everything's fine over here, the same. Hot sun, crazy Mum. Never mind that, tell me what you've been up to! How are Alice and Cathy? Have you unpacked your things yet?"

"They're fine, they said to say 'hi'," I say airily, breathing in through my nose and starting to feel a bit better already. "I haven't unpacked properly yet, but I'll sort it out later. I'm in the white room on the top floor."

"Oh yes, one of the hospital rooms. Very sterile," she says jokingly. "You'll have to hang some pictures up or something."

"I'm allowed to redecorate it however I like," I tell her.

"Thank goodness for that. So tell me what you've been doing! Have you been out anywhere yet, or are you just settling in still?" I hear Phil in the background shouting to Mom to say hi, and she shushes him.

"Hi Phil," I laugh. "Yeah, we went to the park the other day with Ali's friends, that was fun. We're all going out again later once she finishes work. Other than that we've just been hanging out at home, catching up, you know."

"Of course, that's lovely. You girls used to be so close. And what are her friends like, is it Emmett and...?"

"Jasper," I answer. "They're great. Really nice, they've made me feel really welcome. And there's Rosalie, Emmett's roommate, she's cool too."

"Oh, that's wonderful. Have you met their parents yet?" she asks, her voice slightly _too_ breezy.

"Not yet," I tell her. I know she's got a lot of history with these people, and much of it was left unfinished when she uprooted her life and moved us away. She lost touch with them all years ago, apart from Cathy of course, and sometimes I think she sounds slightly sad when she tells me stories about them. I know that part of her life is over, but there is still hurt there. Maybe time doesn't heal everything.

"Well you send them my love when you see them," she says firmly. "So what are you kids doing today then?"

"Uh, I'm not actually sure! Emmett left Ali a voicemail this morning inviting us out after work, and that was it. I'll let you know what happens." She played the voicemail out loud earlier so I could hear it, and it was less of an invite and more of an order to be more accurate. He sounded excited though which made me get a bit excited too, because it's contagious and I think I'm just susceptible to that kind of thing. Alice warned me that he's always coming up with weird stuff to do, most of which is never usually as much fun as he makes it out to be, and not to get my hopes up.

"Sounds interesting! Well I've got this illustration class and it starts in about 10 minutes, darling, so I must dash, but call me soon, okay? Anytime you want to talk, just call, I don't care about the time difference."

I hang up the phone feeling strange but composed. I'm not about to burst into inexplicable tears anytime soon, anyway. Now what the hell am I supposed to wear when I don't know what it is I'll be doing?

* * *

"Geocaching," Emmett announces, his tone implying that we should have the slightest clue what he's talking about. Four blank faces stare back at him.

It took Alice and I about fifteen minutes to walk to Emmett and Rosalie's house (plus the extra five minutes when we stopped for a break midway because we're both unfit), and we found the two of them plus Jasper sitting on the crumbling red brick wall around their tiny front yard, waiting for us to arrive. Rosalie is looking glamorous and bored, her fingers tapping furiously on the buttons of her cell phone, which I think is pretty impressive when you take into consideration the length of her shaped purple nails. Jasper is smoking a hand rolled cigarette and attempting to blow smoke rings through his mouth – and failing, might I add. And Emmett is sitting impatiently on the wall between them, wearing what I can only assume is a child's Halloween pirate hat on his head.

He points emphatically to this hat now, in apparent answer to the questioning looks on our faces. I feel like I am missing something obvious and important here, but I'm relieved that the others at least appear to be just as confused as I am.

"I think we're gonna need a little more explanation there, mate," Jasper encourages, looking like he wants to laugh. Oh god, I'm going to start laughing too in a minute. I mustn't make eye contact with Ali or we'll be pissing ourselves.

"Geocaching! It's a thing! You know, with the GPS and the hiking?" Emmett's smile falters a bit, and he adjusts his little hat.

"Oh, you know what, I think I actually know what he's talking about," Rosalie says, tilting her hips up so that she can slide her phone into her pocket. "People put things in sandwich boxes or something, and they hide it somewhere for other people to find. And then they put the co-ordinates up on the internet so you can track it with your sat nav, right?"

"Right, exactly!" There we go, he's excited again. "It's like a global treasure hunt!" And now I'm excited too. See, contagious?

"Hence the hat?" Alice asks, taking it off his head and putting it on her own.

"Yep," he confirms, snatching in back protectively and placing it carefully back on his own head, with a warning look to her that says 'keep your hands to yourself'. "I couldn't believe it was a real thing when I heard about it. I don't understand why everyone doesn't do it. Global. Fucking. Treasure hunt. Why aren't you all more excited?"

"I'm excited," I offer, raising my hand in the air like a school girl.

"There we go, thank you! We're holding the fort down alone here." He reaches his hand up for a high five, and as he is still sitting on the wall it is just the right height for me to hit, which I do with exaggerated enthusiasm that makes Ali laugh at me.

"So where are we going then?" Rosalie asks.

"It's only like a half hour walk," Emmett answers, reaching around to fish a GPS device out of the backpack I didn't even notice he was wearing, since his back has been facing away from me. Ali and I make a face at each other, because we were already out of breath after the fifteen minutes it took to get here.

"So it's an hour of walking," Alice says, sounding unimpressed. "Half an hour, there and back. Plus the time it takes me and Bells to walk home from here. Ugh, there had better be actual treasure at the end of this."

"This will be good for you. Your fitness is shocking." He turns the GPS on, saying as it loads up, "The amount of caches hidden around here is mental. I didn't think there would be that many, but then I put our postcode into the map on the website, and I felt like I was in an Alien film when their tracking device shows that the aliens are surrounding them. 'Dear God, no... this can't be right... according to my device... they're everywhere!" He ends his dramatic impression by reaching out and tickling Rosalie's sides, because she is closest to him. She squeaks and smacks his hands away.

He taps at the screen of the GPS a few times, declares it ready to go, and so we set off, the five of us walking along the sidewalk together and turning left or right, depending on what Emmett orders us to do. He really wanted to shout to us 'Port!' or 'Starboard!' but none of us could remember which one meant left and which meant right, so he has settled for shouting 'Onwards!' and pointing in the direction we need to go in.

Usually when I am walking with a group of people, I end up finding myself left at the back, awkwardly trying to keep pace so that I don't step on the heel of anyone's shoe and unable to properly hear what they are talking about. I don't know why this always happens, but it just does. With this group though, people rotate positions all over the place, and even when we split up into separate conversations for a while, nobody is left at the back. Ali and I stay walking together with our arms linked most of the time, and at one point Emmett comes over and links my other arm, pretending to gossip to us like an old lady about Rosalie and Jasper who are caught up in a passionate discussion about the last Harry Potter book like it's holy scripture. These are my kind of people.

"Dear lord, have you seen the state of Jasper's hat?" Emmett mock whispers to us in a conspiratorial voice, clutching on to my arm. Jasper is wearing another brown trilby today, this time with a small feather on the rim. "He looks like blooming Yankee Doodle!"

Jasper continues talking to Rosalie while we snicker at Emmett's antics, saying, "No no, you've got it wrong, the death eaters had infiltrated the Ministry by this point," as he holds his middle finger up behind him.

"And that Rosalie," Emmett continues, gasping scandalously. "All those _tattoos_. It's unsightly on a girl her age!" Rosalie whips her head around and glares at him in outrage, but I can see that she is trying not to laugh.

We continue on for about ten minutes, walking through residential areas and avoiding mothers pushing babies in strollers, dog walkers, and joggers (and one dog walking jogger), until the GPS starts to direct us off road. We walk around the side of a row of houses, past their back yards and a block of garages, and we reach the outside of a huge wooded area.

"Here we go, that looks like a trail," Emmett says sounding energised. "Now the fun part starts." There are a few cars parked outside where the trail into the forest starts, so this must be a fairly popular place to come hiking.

The trail is wide and the earth is dry but covered in twigs and tree roots, and I have to keep my eyes on the ground at all times to avoid stepping in dog shit. After a few minutes of walking, it becomes very apparent that we are slowly going uphill. My legs are going to be very sore tomorrow. Alice's legs are already starting to get achy and wobbly, and she looks visibly worn out, so Emmett lifts her up onto his back and happily carries her onwards while Rosalie talks his ear off about a story one of their room mates told her earlier.

"He's definitely in his element out here," I comment to Jasper, walking along side him behind the others.

"He loves this kind of thing," Jasper tells me, ducking his head to avoid an overhanging tree branch that wouldn't have even brushed the top of mine. Are all English guys super tall or something? "Anything outdoorsy or active, he's all over it. He's studying Sports Science at Uni."

"So you guys have to choose what you want to major in right away?"

"Yep. It doesn't make sense, does it? How many people our age know exactly what they want to do with their lives already?"

"The lucky ones," I answer sombrely, and he nods his head in agreement. "I wish there was something I always knew I wanted to be when I grew up. It would make life so much easier. Did you know what you wanted to be?"

"I changed my mind every day. Cowboy, author, translator, artist... I wanted to be Jack White for a long time. Still kind of do, actually," he admits with a wry smile, making me laugh.

"Oh, I love Jack White!" I exclaim with fervour. "What's your favourite White Stripes song?" He looks thoughtful for a moment, as if he is pondering our very existence on this Earth or something equally as significant.

"At the moment, probably Apple Blossom. Do you know it?" he asks, holding back a long branch for us so that we can get by. And I don't know what compels me to do it, maybe the adrenaline from the walk or the excitement you get when you discuss a shared taste in music with someone for the first time, but I start singing.

"Come and sit with me and talk a while, let me see your pretty little smile," I trill softly, feeling braver as his face lights up, and braver still when he actually joins in with me.

"Put your troubles in a little pile, and I will sort them out for you," we duet together, his voice low and soulful, and mine high and pure. Alice, Emmett and Rosalie pause their conversation to give us a little round of applause, and I laugh stupidly, feeling kind of flustered and amazed at myself for doing that.

"Your voice is great," Jasper says genuinely, and we look and each other and share a smile.

"So is yours," I respond. "So. You're a blues man then?"

"To the bone. What about you? I'd guess you're a folksy acoustic kind of girl." His eyes gleam as he watches my face for my answer.

"That was a very good guess," I say, surprised that I am that transparent and impressed by his deduction skills. "How did you know? Did Ali tell you I play the guitar?"

"Just a guess. You have that kind of voice. Sweet and expressive." I look down at my Converse shoes to hide the ridiculous blush that has started to heat up my face at his words. I hate my stupid traitorous bastard cheeks. "I didn't know you play guitar. We'll have to play something together one time."

"You play too?" I ask, pleasantly surprised as I look up at him again.

"Since I was a kid. My mum scraped her money together for my lessons for years. Money we didn't really have, actually. She was determined to give me that though." Jasper takes the cigarette from its place behind his ear, tucks his longish wavy hair behind his ear and out of his eyes, and digs into his jean pocket for a lighter.

"She sounds like a great Mom," I say, because she really does.

"She's a good lady," he tells me with the roll up cigarette between his teeth. "She's excited to meet _you_."

"Really?" I ask, scratching my upper arm sheepishly and feeling a bit astonished that somebody out there is excited to meet me.

"Uh huh. She wants to know what Renee's daughter is like. Did your Mum teach you how to play the guitar?" I narrow my eyes at him suspiciously, unable to believe that he is _that_ good at reading people. "I saw a photo of her holding one once," he shrugs.

"Oh, yeah, she did. She's a wonderful player, much better than me. She's got this great husky singing voice, like Janis Joplin style. You'd love it," I assure him, completely certain that he would be very taken with my Mom.

"I'm sure I would." He smiles quietly, inhaling a puff of his cigarette and turning his head away from me to blow the smoke out, one hand in his pocket. "What's your favourite Janis song?"

"Cry Baby, until the end of time," I answer immediately, not even having to think about it. That song makes me feel things.

"I'd like to hear you singing that one," he says mischievously, raising his eyebrows in proposition.

"Ha, I don't think so. That one is just for the shower." Why did that come out sounding so dirty? Yep, he definitely thought so too, by the smirk on his face. He's kind enough not to mention anything about it though, thank God.

"We're turning right down here, guys," Rosalie calls to us, the others a bit further ahead than we are.

"Rose," Emmett whines, and she makes an impatient sound and shouts "Onwards!" pointing to a fork in the trail leading off to the right.

"How is he still carrying Ali?" I ask incredulously, unable to believe that he isn't collapsing on the muddy ground in exhaustion, no matter how much of an Ali Kitten she may be.

"He's a beast," Jasper tells me, not sounding surprised in the slightest at his friend's endurance. "He does this kind of shit every single day, this is nothing."

I stumble over a large root embedded into the ground, and cackle when Jasper does exactly the same thing as me. He laughs too. I like it when guy's can make fun of themselves. Mike, the guy I was seeing while I was at college, would have gotten all sulky if I had laughed at him tripping over.

"I'm really glad you decided to move here. It's gonna be fun getting to know you," Jasper tells me with a half smile.

"Really?" I ask sceptically without even thinking about it. Why did I say it like that? I should have just said thank you; that would have been the polite thing to do. I can't seem to help that stupid voice in my head that tells me 'they're lying' every single time somebody says something nice about me. I feel so boring and average and underwhelming, and these people are so cool and interesting and wonderful, and I'm worried that it won't be long before they realise this about me.

Jasper tugs on the end of my sleeve slightly to stop me from walking ahead of him, getting me to turn around and look back at him.

"Really," he says firmly, looking me dead in the eyes to show me that he's serious. I get the feeling he knows exactly what I was just thinking about myself. I stare back at him for a few seconds, his heavy lidded deep blue eyes making me feel calmer, and nod slowly. He grins, and I grin back, and we start walking side by side again, bumping against each other's arms slightly.

It's official. I have a crush.

Alice has decided she has recovered enough to walk on her own now, and she comes back to walk next to me, pulling a crispy brown leaf out of my windswept waves and dropping it on the floor. She joins in on our music discussion, taking to the topic naturally.

"What CD is in your CD player right at this moment?" Jasper asks us both.

"CD, Grandpa?" Alice mocks, leaning her head forward to see past me to him. "Do people still buy those?"

"Hey," he says defensively. "I still buy them. I like all the crap you get with it, the lyrics and pictures and stuff. Your new fangled digital copies don't give you all of that."

"Do you still use a walkman?" I ask curiously. Surely people don't walk around with those anymore. Alice snorts at the affirmative look on his face.

"Sorry I'm not down with the hip kids," he jokes, grinning through narrowed blue eyes as he cups his hand around another cigarette end to light it.

"The last song I played on my iPod was Holocene by Bon Iver," I tell him, receiving an approving nod.

"The last song on my iPod was Fuck the Pain Away by Peaches," announces Alice. Neither of us has heard it. "Imagine that you are fucking someone's brains out on E and crying at the same time, and that's what it sounds like. It's brilliant and dramatic and I love." She paints the greatest word pictures.

"What do you have in your CD player?" I ask Jasper, holding my arm out in front of Alice before she goes catapulting through a big pile of animal crap.

"Tom Waits," he answers, and is dumbfounded when I say that I've never heard him before. "Never? There's this one song I have to show you then. You'll love it," he says passionately. My tummy flutters a little.

"How comes you never want to show me any songs?" Alice grumbles at him. I stick my tongue out at her. When did I become six years old again? Right, probably the same second I saw my cousin in that airport.

"Because you listen to your weird electronic shit and you wouldn't appreciate the genius of Tom Waits."

We turn onto the topic of books as we climb higher still, the rising sloped floor becoming rockier and steeper. "Almost there!" Emmett calls behind to us, as I discover that Jasper is extremely well read and that Alice can't sit still in one place for long enough to be able to read a book but wishes she could, although I knew that part already.

"So what book are you reading right now?" I ask Jasper, liking this little question and answer game we've got going on and wanting it to continue.

"Brave New World by Aldous Huxley. I'm trying to work my way through all the classics." He must have spotted my face lighting up, because he says wryly, "I'm assuming that means you've read it."

"I'm a bit of a sci-fi and dystopia nerd. Do you like it so far?" I ask eagerly. I really hope he does, because it's one of my all time favourite books.

"Yeah, it's really interesting. Eye opening, for sure. I'm told there's a great ending?" I mime zipping my mouth close. I am firmly anti-spoiler; there's no way I'm ruining it for him.

Emmett's little device guides us to cut through the trees and bushes now, and we do so with trepidation, carefully picking our way over spiky branches and patches of nettles, and one of us calling out 'Are you sure this is the right way?' every few seconds. And a minute later, we break through the other side of the bushes and out onto a clearing on the top of a hill, and we are able to truly appreciate just how high we have climbed.

"Fuuuck," Rosalie says in awe, "we are high up."

There is a huge overhanging tree branch that is growing close to the ground, and it's long enough for all of us to sit down on and rest for a few minutes. The clearing isn't huge, and the ground is strewn with crunchy brown fallen leaves and ivy, trodden into the earth by so many people, but the view is wonderful. I can see blocks of houses and squares of fields, and the expanding circle of lights from town, and I feel like I am looking at a giant map come to life. Isn't it funny the way land can be compacted into geometric shapes from so many feet away? It all looks so simple from up here, and I feel like I have gained perspective in more than one way.

"This is a great spot," Jasper says, and we all agree, and I feel grateful to Emmett for dragging us out here on this treasure hunt because we never would have found it otherwise.

Emmett pulls a cheap digital camera from out of his backpack and balances it on a conveniently placed tree stump in front of us. He sits behind it for a few seconds, checking the screen to see if we'll all fit it, adjusts it, and then sets it on timer and runs back to sit down with us again. It takes us a few goes to get it right. Rosalie and Alice both say they blinked on the first try, and on the second go we are all still mid conversation and probably pulling comically unprepared faces, but the third time's a charm. He promises to put it up on Facebook tonight so we can all see it.

"Shall we find this treasure then?" Alice suggests, sounding much happier after our little rest up here, leaning her head against Rosalie's shoulder.

The GPS leads us to the general area of the cache but doesn't give away its exact location, which Emmett tells us is called Ground Zero in Geocaching terms, so we have to hunt around for it.

"And it could be anywhere?" Rosalie asks, using her chunky biker boots to kicks away leaves and reveal the ground beneath them. "On the floor, in the trees, under rocks...?"

"Anywhere," Emmett confirms. "You even get little magnetic ones that stick to lampposts and fences. But we're looking for a bigger container."

We spend about ten minutes searching, getting increasingly more frustrated, going over the same hiding places we've checked before and re-checking every little nook and cranny. Jasper and Rosalie have given up, and he is teaching her how to roll cigarettes over on the tree stump, even though she doesn't to my knowledge actually smoke. Emmett and Alice are both extremely stubborn, and are resolutely determined to find it before we leave.

I almost decide to give up and sit back down again, when something on the ground by the edge of the forest where we came from catches my eye. There is a pile of twigs and logs on the ground that seems a bit too neatly stacked, and one of the logs looks different to the others. It's a lighter brown and it's kind of shiny. I kneel down on the forest floor, getting the knees of my jeans dirty and green, and I pick up the rebel log. It would be so cunning if this was... yep. Hinges.

"Um, guys?" I call to the others. "I think I found something."

They gather around me, commenting on the genius of the container as I rattle it slightly and hear things move about inside, and Ali urges me to open it. Why is this so exciting?

I prise the fake log open at the seam running around the outside of it, and we find it hollow and filled with kitschy little toys and treasures. There's a bouncy rubber ball, foreign coins, a pen, some badges, dice... Emmett explains the idea of taking something and replacing it with something new for other people to find and do the same with, and he instructs us all to take one item each. I take a cool looking marble, Rosalie takes a coin from Australia, Ali takes the rubber ball, Emmett takes a toy car, and Jasper takes the dice. Then Emmett fills the log back up with goodies from his backpack, and I add in a few stray US quarters that I find in my jacket pocket. We close it back up and put it on the ground exactly as we found it, blending it back into the environment again using twigs.

The way back home is all downhill. We run parts of it easily, slowing our pace in between and having lots of breaks. All of us slip over at least once, so we have matching stains on our asses, and we laugh at what people walking behind us on the sidewalk must think.

Ali and I get in the door with flushed faces from our days activity, exhausted but cheerful. Cathy is in already, and she asks us what on earth we've been doing when she sees the state of our hair and clothes. She has Chinese food waiting for us this time, which she apologizes for and promises we will have a proper meal soon, and we both assure her through mouthfuls of chow mein and spring rolls that we don't mind one bit. I am used to making my own meals most of the time anyway.

Later that night I check Facebook on my laptop, and see that Emmett has decided to upload all three of the pictures, including the ones that went a bit wrong. After studying them intently with an involuntary smile tugging at my mouth, I decide that the two imperfect photos are even better than the unspoiled one.

* * *

**A/N: Thanks for reading! What was the last song you played on your iPod (or walkman, if you're old school like Jasper)?**


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